


Worth Fighting For

by minandmic



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Ficlet, NSFW, Outlander - Freeform, Smut, internallydeceased, jamie x claire, prompt, turtlesoupstories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 02:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11476887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minandmic/pseuds/minandmic
Summary: Ok so, I am part of a joint blog along with 3 other wonderful ladies on tumblr called turtlesoupstories. We posted a prompt post and asked people to send in asks with the prompt number they wanted. The prompts for this story were #75 and #7675. I don’t wanna start begging, but I swear to God I will.76. How long have you waited to do that?





	Worth Fighting For

“Claire, I don’t want to start beggin’, but I swear to  _God_  I will.” He whispered against the solid wood of their door, a hint of warning in his voice.

Nothing.

“ _Claire!_ ” He hissed, a bit louder this time.

“Go  _away, Jamie_.” She spat back.

Ever since they’d returned to Leoch, Claire had avoided him at any and all costs. And when she inevitably  _did_  see him, she made it abundantly clear that she wanted absolutely  _nothing_  to do with him.

_Was she still mad about what happened after Fort William? It had been over a week since then…_

He expected her to be upset, but he figured it would only last a day or two. He  _expected_  for everything to resolve itself in time… but she was having absolutely  _none_  of it.

 _Surely, she understood_  why _he had to, right?_

“Claire, if ye don’t open this door  _right. Now_. I’ll-” The words died on his tongue as the door was suddenly hurled open, revealing his angry- _very,_  angry-wife. And in that moment, Jamie realized he had thrust open the gates of Hell, and unleashed the wrath of the Devil himself.

“You’ll what? Kick the door in and have another go at me?! Why? Because I don’t do every little thing you tell me to? Because I don’t  _obey_  your orders?!  _Christ,_  Jamie! I’m a _person!_  Not some play thing for you to do whatever you damn well please!” Her voice had steadily risen as she spoke, her face coming within mere inches of his, taunting him– _daring_  him–to argue.

“ _You do **not**  own me._” She growled, a predator mere seconds away from killing its prey.

“So if you  _ever_  lay a hand on me again, James Fraser; I will cut your heart out and have it for breakfast. Do you understand me?” Her face was only a hairsbreadth away from his, her eyes boring holes into him as she awaited his response.

His mind was running a mile a minute searching for something to say–  _anything;_  but words were lost to him. Nothing he could say would be good enough. Nothing he could say- _or do_ -would excuse his actions from that night after Fort William.

 _“A wife must obey her husband, and must be punished when she doesn’t.”_  A tiny voice in his head castigated him.

“No, that isn’t fair to her. Claire  _isn’t_  any other woman; why should she be treated any different?” He argued, one side of him trying to reason with the other.

 _“She put all the men in danger and almost had herself killed because of her actions. You risked everything to save her:_ your _life_  and  _the lives of several other men. And what would have happened if you failed? The entirety of Clan Mackenzie might have had to answer for_ her _actions.”_

“Aye, but I  _didn’t_ fail. Besides, she hadn’t gotten herself captured on purpose.”

_“She should have known there would be English soldiers going by! Remember what happened at the glade?!”_

“She was in shock–traumatized, even. All I could do was stand by and watch. Remember how that felt? What must  _she_  have felt? She didn’t ask for that.”

_“Your father tanned your hide whenever you disobeyed him. Didn’t you understand the consequences of your actions afterwards?”_

“But how many times had he done it? Did I _ever_  learn?  _Obey_? In fact, it only made me  _more_ rebellious, didn’t it?”

_Silence._

He knew he was right, knew _Claire_ was right. That voice was wrong; invalid. There was no room for argument.

 _“Do you?!”_  Claire shouted.

Her voice had forced him back into reality, the war inside his head forgotten.

“Aye.” He whispered, ashamed. “Aye, I understand. I’m sorry, Claire.” His eyes met hers now, looking past the shame and the guilt of his actions, overcoming his pride and ego by admitting he was  _wrong._

He  _was_  wrong–and he needed to make it  _right._

He took a breath and a step towards her. “You’re right. Ye  _are_  a  _person_ , and ye dinna belong to me–to anyone–but yourself. And i’m sorry for it.” He shook his head, looking down at his feet.

“Wives obey their husbands, and husbands punish them when they don’t. At least, that’s how it was for my father, and his father, and on and on and on back.” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he braved another glance at her. “But maybe, for you and me, it has to go a different way.” He smiled and nodded at her, taking a step further inside the room.

“So,” He exhaled before getting onto his knees in front of her, taking her hand in his. “I swear to you,  _Claire_ , that I will  _never_  lay a hand on you again. And if I do, then my heart deserves to be ripped out from me, for I am not worthy of you.” He lowered his head over her hand before kissing it and looking up at her.

The anger and contempt had vanished, replaced by shock and tenderness.

“I’m sorry.  _Truly_ , I am.” He stared up at her, their eyes locked on each other’s. “Can ye forgive me?”

She squeezed his hand and pulled it up towards her, asking him to stand.

Their foreheads met as she breathed in the scent of him.

_God, she had missed him._

“You promise?” Her brow furrowed as she pulled back an inch so that she could clearly see into his eyes. “Do you  _swear; on your life?”_

He ran his hands up the length of her arms, stopping at her shoulders and holding them there. “ _I swear… on my mother’s grave._ ” He breathed, his face leaning closer and closer to hers.

She smiled and kissed him. “Then yes.  _Yes, I forgive you._ ”

Then his mouth was on hers, his tongue exploring every inch of her mouth, desperately trying to make up for all the hours that had been lost.  

_Oh, how he ached for her._

There was no tenderness, only desperation and _need_. They couldn’t get enough of the other, couldn’t get close  _enough._

He had her pressed up against the door, making sure to close and bolt it shut as he did so.

His hands were a frenzy over her body, wanting to touch all of her at once, unable to decide which part of her to worship first.

One of her hands was tangled in the hair at his nape, keeping his head exactly where it was. The other on his arse, pulling him towards to her. He rolled his hips against her as she did this, causing the breath to hitch in her throat. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to grab her arse or caress her breast; so he did both.  _He had two hands, after all._

The hand on her rear slid down to her thigh, hiking her leg up so that it rested just above his hip.

Both of her arms were wrapped around his neck, bracing herself as she hitched her other leg on his hip. His groin was right up against hers, and she could feel the heat of him there. Hard and wanting.

He walked them towards the bed, setting her down gently before fumbling with his stock.

_Why is it that fingers never work when you want them to?_

Claire had her shift up and over her head in a second, before she helped Jamie in his quest to undress.

Finally,  _finally_ , there were no more barriers between them. Only skin against supple skin.

Normally, he would take more time, but ten days was far too long and he needed to be inside her,  _now._

With one hand braced on either side of her head, Jamie took no time in settling himself between her legs and thrusting home.

Both of them gasped as they relished in the feeling of their joining.

_How had they survived those ten days?_

Claire raked her fingernails down his back, the pain bordering on pleasure only spurring him onwards.

Sometimes, when they made love, they were slow and tender; pouring everything they had into one another. Other times, it was fast and rough and quick. They  _craved_  each other,  _needed_  to _feel_ that release.

And this definitely wasn’t slow  _or_  tender.

Her fingers dug into his flesh as he thrust into her, her release building and building until she couldn’t take it anymore.

She sunk her teeth into his shoulder, wrapped her legs tight around his waist and held on for dear life as he brought her over the edge. She shook underneath him and it wasn’t long before he tensed above her and followed her into oblivion.

He flopped down beside her, breathing heavily as he pulled her into his arms.

“How long have been waiting to do that?” She sighed, resting her head on his chest.

 

“Too long, Sassenach.  _Far_  too long.” He smirked, kissing her brow.


End file.
